


Marianne Drabbles

by Masmkasm



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: F/M, First Time, Mordern AU, Slightly - Freeform, no burn, only for a few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4537404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masmkasm/pseuds/Masmkasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this started as a short ficlet about a sweater but it's where I'm putting all my Marianne Drabbles now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sewing

"Solas can you hand me the needle?" Marianne asked softly, the two of them were sitting in their tent, the rain falling hard outside. She could hear the sounds of soldiers stomping in the new mud, the quiet creaking of Varric calibrating Bianca in the tent next to them, and the shifting of a certain Tevinter Mage trying to get comfortable.

Marianne was holding Solas' tan sweater, a large rip down the sleeve. There was evidence that this had happened before, frayed thread, what appeared to be fishing wire... Marianne had to stifle a giggle. His mother must not have taught him how to sew.

He handed her the thin peice of metal, along with a spool of white thread. He was shirtless, and in the small tent his presence was antagonizing to say the least. She took the needle gingerly, careful to avoid pricking herself. 

"Thank you," she whispered as her skin brushed his. He nodded his welcome and moved closer to her to watch. Marianne never minded his strange habit of watching over her shoulder, especially when it ended with his arms around her. She was about to start threading the needle when he grabbed her waist and pulled her between his legs. He rested his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly across her stomach.

"You can't move like that when I'm doing this, I'll hurt myself." She said with a short laugh. He mumbled into her hair, kissing her pointed ear.

"I will attempt to remain stagnant." He replied, his voice low and smooth.

 

She scoffed and began sewing, knowing full well he would not sit still. The stitch was a simple one, as the tear had been clean. Solas seemed entranced by her craftwork, watching intently as her fingers wove the fabric back together. She could have done a spell to do it for her, but she enjoyed the work, it reminded her of her time before the Inquisition. Helping make the clothes for shows, learning difficult patterns and how to sew beads and gems into cloth. Da'renan had taught her well.

As she grew close to the end of the tear, she felt Solas' weight change, he grew heavy on her back. He began a soft snoring pattern, her love had fallen asleep. 

It wasn't a surprising situation, Solas often fell asleep while riding, or during meetings! Him falling to the fade on her was hardly out of the ordinary. Marianne often ached to have her lover asleep on her, sometimes that craving was stronger than the ache for him inside her. She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. No sex, Varric would certainly hear and then she'd never be able to look the man in the eye.

 

She was done, she tied and cut the string, examining her work. It was a good stitch, she admitted, one of her best. A thick pattern to protect against further tears. She ran her index and middle finger along her pride, quickly enchanting it. It would hold long after the sweater itself had perished. She hummed happily at her work, then turned the sweater over.

She examined it closely, checking for any more rips or holes, and she was not disappointed. It seemed Solas had owned that damned sweater for several years, as it had many badly patched areas that Marianne could easily undo to fix.

"Ma sa lath you do not need to fix every mistake I've made." Solas chuckled as she finished re-patching a particularly badly done spot. She jumped at the sound of his voice, she'd thought him still asleep. He kissed her neck, brushing the hair aside. "There are far too many. It would take you centuries." 

Marianne pushed the sweater away, turning towards Solas and crashing her lips into his. He pulled her onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his back and her hands running along his shoulder blades.

"You sew terribly Vhenan." Marianne breathed, he growled and kissed her again. 

"Perhaps it's is good I found you to fix my things for me then." He leaned back to look into her eyes, and she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that all I'm good for?" She grumbled and he laughed.

"You are also very good at cooking?" He offered. She growled again and he added "cleaning then?" Her scowl only deepened. "Ah then love making? You are profusely good at that." 

She grabbed a pillow and shoved it in his face, pushing him down onto the bedroll. The tent echoed with their laughter. 

"Maker just fuck already," Varric said under his breath.


	2. Stitching

"Marianne give me the needle," Solas nearly barked it, her naked back facing him flinched violently, causing waves of pain through her. The tent was heavy with sweat, bowls of bloodied water with ruined rags were near the entrance. Bottles of lyrium strewn around the small enclosure, shattered armor lying next to the couple.

"Solas don't yell at me, I'm hurt." She hastily replied, he barely listened as she handed him the needle. Her hands were shaking, a dragon had sliced her back almost entirely open. Her spine had been bent and torn, her lungs had begun collapsing, but after rigorous healing and potions, Solas had fixed most of her tattered body.

All that remained was a large gash reaching from her neck to her waist, and Solas needed to sew it up to finish the healing. His hand grazed her back gingerly, the blood splattered over her freckled shoulders making him nervous. He was already so tired, his vision had begun to blur, if only Dorian knew healing as he did. If only it was Dorian that was hurt, surely he could heal him without faltering. He could heal anyone better than he could heal her. She was too precious, too important, she acted so invincible but she was so damn fragile.

He began sewing, but his vision blurred, his head fell to her shoulder and he breathed shallowly.

"Ma vhenan I do not think I can do this." He whispered, his voice breaking. His hands were red with thick layers of her drying blood, he was sure if someone was to see him they'd think he was the injured one.

"What? Solas you cracked my spine back into place not an hour ago. I was screaming and thrashing, Iron Bull had to hold me down." She said it flatly, like it wasn't her own memory but something someone had described to her. 

He laughed, but there was no humor to it, it was shallow and weak. And Marianne knew he was right. This was too much for him, he wasn't there anymore. 

"Guide me Solas." She held her hands up, her finger tips glowing blue. He leaned back and watched as the needle twitched, then began to move. He obeyed, telling her if she needed to go lower, higher, more to the left or right... He was in awe of her magical skill. As she sewed she healed, her magic following close after her needle. 

"I'm sorry Ma sa lath, I wish I could-""Solas don't speak, I need to concentrate." She cut him off, she didn't mean it harshly, but it certainly came out that way. He did not ignore her command. He was silent as she worked, speaking only when she began to stray from the correct path. He would whisper loving words into her ears later, words of her majesty, telling her how glorious she was in the battle. How even when she was beaten and bruised she continued healing her teammates, allowing The Iron Bull to cut the dragons head off.

He had flushed at her stamina, her bravery. He had been pulled away from the battle to heal her, she'd been screaming as he'd re-attached her bones, but she'd not faltered. Her magic had been strong through the entire battle, she'd cast her own healing spells, launching fireballs in the beasts face. She had even taken over his job, casting shields over Dorian and Bull, and an occasional wall of ice to block the dragons attack.

But a stray fireball had turned the dragon towards the two of them. Solas had been angry at first, why draw its attention to us? But when Iron Bull climb onto the monsters back and wrenched its head from its neck, he'd felt nothing but pride for his love.

He was brought back into the heated tent by Marianne wincing in pain and the needle falling. Solas took it, kissing her shoulder. 

"You are too much lethalin, I can do this small task for you." He spoke softly, and he meant it, she never failed to impress him with her strength and power. She sat strong through the rest of it, though it was clear she was at the threshold of her pain. Neither of them had magic left, so the sting of the needle could not be dulled. 

He quickly reached the completion of the stitch, pulling it tight and severing the end. He tied it and tucked the needle away. He kissed her again, this time on her cheek as he moved to face her.

She was exhausted, that much was evident, her eyes were heavy, her body slumped, she looked so drained but still so strong. She was a hurricane and a calm breeze at the same time, he doubted he would ever fully understand her. He put his hands on either side of her face and her eyes finally focused on him. 

"I kind of lost consciousness at the climax of the fight... Did Bull get the head in the end? Josie wanted us to get the head." She asked, smiling at her lover. Solas nodded, then leaned his forehead against her own. They sat there a moment, silent, their eyes closed...

"I love you." Solas said it so quiet at first she'd thought she'd imagined it. But then he said it again, and there was a growl to his throat she'd only heard when they'd made love. "No one has ever... You draw my attention from the fade like no other, I would never sleep again if it meant I could always be by your side."

There was a fear in his tone that she didn't recognize, but he'd never said that before. He'd said it in elvish, but never in his life had he ushered those words in the common tongue. An odd time for it when she couldn't mount him and take him like she wanted to. Instead she settled for kissing him.

They kissed, and it was long and it was gentle. Most of their kisses were quick or rough, this kiss was kind and careful. He pulled away, placing small kisses on her cheeks, her nose and chin, then gently lowering her to his lap.

"I love you too." She finally whimpered as she drifted off to sleep. He smiled, he knew she loved her, but it would always be spectacular to hear her say it. He would sleep sitting up and he didn't mind, it was like meditation. He closed his eyes as well, listening to the soft snoring of his lethalin in his lap. 

He wouldn't find her conscious in the fade that night, but he would watch over her dreams, guiding them away from nightmares of dragons ripping her apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd continue this piece but I wanted to throw in a bit about Solas sewing for her.
> 
> ...of course medical stitching is the only thing is consider him good at. And even then she had to do most of it.


	3. Fen'Harel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi hey hello
> 
> This is for a modern poly au featuring Marianne, Solas, Anders and uhtsceatha's OC Dalla!  
> (Her tumblr here go now http://uhtsceatha.tumblr.com )
> 
> Her are some pictures I drew for this chapter VERY NSFW
> 
> AS IS THIS CHAPTER SORRY
> 
> http://40.media.tumblr.com/66374e719b9a6e091f9bd365cd8c863e/tumblr_nu8oz5T0Z61rj7m5fo1_1280.jpg
> 
> http://40.media.tumblr.com/51f260a7a6ad2487f5a13c817b9f1acb/tumblr_nu8oz5T0Z61rj7m5fo2_1280.jpg

He had waited months, expecting the fall of their relationship, looking for cracks in their foundation, any reason not to tell her the truth. But the reasons never came, and his love for her only grew.

He had explained shortly at the end of their first date that if this was to work then they would have to wait to be intimate. She had not argued, she’d smiled and nodded, agreeing that waiting was a good idea. Since then she had seemed to be in complete control. They’d seen movies together; he’d met her students and even her foster mother. They’d spent countless nights at each other’s apartments, but never done anything more than kissing.

Solas was slightly losing his mind. If only she didn’t walk quite like that, if only her chest didn’t lift every time she breathed; bounced every time she laughed. When she would come over and cook dinner for him her hair would fall just right on her neck, begging for him to push it aside and kiss every freckle. When he would sit in on her dance classes he would watch how delicately she guided her students, how her hands seemed to linger on a girl’s leg and then later the same girl would make the same mistake on purpose, just to have Marianne’s hand on her again.

But he had to wait, had to be careful. Elves often held heavy prejudice against him for his heritage, being the descendant of the god who sealed away all the other gods tends to make some people angry. It didn’t exactly give him standing in the Elvhen councils, in fact the preferred to ignore everything he said, but he was still higher up than anyone in a Dalish Clan. Which he assumed Marianne was for a long time.

It was a friend that had introduced them, a mage Solas had met in his travels; Anders. “She’s amazing, beautiful, smart, and maker, so flexible. You’ll love her.” He’d said.

Solas had snorted at the description, “it sounds as if you already have affections for this girl.”

Anders had laughed and shaken his head, insisting they were just old friends from school, but there was an odd look to his eye that told otherwise. But before Solas could say no, Anders said she was a mage, and an elf, piquing Solas’ interest.

Thank the creators Solas had listened to him and gone on that date.

He stood now in the corner of her little dance studio, it was only that one girl left. The one elf with the long blonde hair and short stature, the one that always seemed to stare at Marianne. She’d asked for help on some simple moves, and Marri had been more than happy to help. Holding her leg there, lifting her hips here. It was a little infuriating for Solas to watch.

Once finished the shorter of the two elves pointed to Solas and seemed to ask Marianne a question. Marri simply smiled and nodded as a response and Solas practically ran across the room to know what was happening. Of course it was a smooth run, like a speed walk.

“Marianne? Are you almost finished?” He asked as he reached the girls. Solas couldn’t recognize it from a far, but close up he saw the thick red patterns of June's Vallaslin on the girls face, along with many scars.

The girls looked up to him, one smiling, one not.

“So this is the infamous boyfriend?” The little elf asked as if sizing him up. She seemed glued to Marianne’s side standing almost protectively as if the two girls were in fact together.

“Solas! Yes, just wrapping up. This is Dalla, my most attentive student.” Marianne said, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “Solas, Dalla. Dalla, Solas. Play nice, I’ll be right back.”

And then Marianne was gone, and the two were alone. Dalla glared at him hard, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to deserve it. He started to speak, maybe ease her mind with some conversation but she quickly cut him off.

“You better treat her right, she is a special lady.” Dalla whispered it harshly, her finger pointed at his chest. He raised his hands in defense but before he could reply Marianne was back, and holding the keys to her car.

Dalla’s angry face was gone in a flash, replaced by a smile and doughy eyes. “Was she nice to you?” Marianne asked as she hooked her arm in Solas’. He pulled her close, looking Dalla in the eye to remind her who exactly got to be in Marianne’s bed tonight. Hopefully. If things went well.

“She was being a good friend I assume,” He replied, kissing his lovers cheek. “Shall we retire? I’ve got ah… plans for tonight.”

Marianne smirked like she already knew what was going on in his head, nodded, and then picked up her duffle bag. “Dalla just keep working on getting your leg all the way up and you’ll have the move in no time,” Marri said with a wink to the little elf.

“We’re still on for drinks Saturday right?” Dalla asked as the couple turned around to leave. Dalla jogged close behind, picking her backpack up as the left the room.

“Of course! I’m bringing Anders.” Marianne laughed as she locked the studio doors. The air outside was chilly, as it should be heading into winter, it was just bitter enough that Marianne moved a tad bit closer to Solas. He felt sorry for Dalla, shivering alone in the cold night air. He tried not to notice the way her body shook as she inhaled, her lips glossed pink with the chill.

Dalla’s nose crinkled, scowling at the ground she replied, “You know I don’t go for Shems.” Solas was surprised she didn’t say men. Or ‘anyone other than my hot dance instructor’.

Marianne shook her head, “This one’s different, he’s been my friend for years, and he’s perfect for you.” Solas could practically see Dalla biting her tongue. The two waved goodbye to the one, and Solas made sure to watch her until she got in her car, though Marianne was preoccupied with digging through her bag because she’d somehow lost her keys in those four minutes it took to walk out there.

Dalla got in her car, turned it on, sighed, and then banged her head on the steering wheel a few times before driving off.

“She likes you.”

They were half way home, Solas’ ears had finally defrosted in the now warm car, and Marianne had just spoken. Though he was certain those were supposed to be his words.

“What?” He said it with a laugh, turning to look at her in bewilderment.

“She does, she’s always glancing at you and asking about you.”

“Oh yes, well that makes sense. Because Vhenan, I believe she is in love with you.” He scoffed, gazing back out the front window; he enjoyed the look of the sky tonight, nearly grey with flicks of white and blue.

“Well I knew that.”

Solas’ head snapped back over to look at her, and there was a devilish smile on her freckled face. “You know?”

It was her turn to scoff. “Of course I do, you think I don’t realize why she’s always staying late? But that’s not the point, she likes you, she likes me. She likes us both.”

Solas’ brow furrowed at that, his mind immediately went somewhere dark and dirty, but he’d yet to be intimate with even his own girlfriend, introducing another body into it would be… complex at this stage.

“So you’re setting her up with Anders?” he asked as they pulled into her parking spot. Normally after class they would go to a movie or dinner, but Solas had specifically requested to go to her place tonight.

Her voice grew further as she opened the door and got out. “I like to think Anders is the best parts of both of us.”

Solas followed suit, grabbing his bag and sliding out of the car. He snorted in response. “I’d love to hear your reasoning for that,” he held up his hand just as her mouth flew open to explain. “Later. Love, later.”

They walked up to her apartment in silence, it was obvious there was something going on, but Marianne didn’t want to push him. They’d been together six months, he practically lived at her apartment, and he had a tooth brush, underwear, his own shampoo and a spare pair of glasses in his own drawer. But they’d never been naked in the same room, never gone further than a passionate night of kissing after a few glasses of wine.

Once through the door, and after a few minutes of Marianne losing her keys yet again, Solas grabbed her and kissed her. Hard.

She dropped her keys, her bags, everything, and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. The door wasn’t even closed as they fumbled back into the entryway, coats and shoes falling to the ground. His lips were still cold from the chill air outside, but his hands were hot and trailing up her shirt. She kicked the door close and he pushed her against it, slamming his body to her own. She let out a squeak and he quickly pulled back, his breath heavy and his eyes closed. She bit her lip, watching as he reeled himself back in, pushed and prodded until he had his mind back under control. She didn’t want that, she wanted him to rip off her clothes and fuck her against this fucking door, she wanted all her neighbors to hear her screaming in ecstasy as she came over and over again on his cock. But she took a deep breath, and tried to remember if she had wine.

She did in fact have two bottles of red wine, which she hoped to the creators was gone by the end of the night.

She had just poured two bottles and plopped down on the couch when Solas reappeared. He had taken his sweater off, and his scarf, standing in only his skin tight grey t-shirt and his equally tight jeans. He was nervous, hands shaking and eyes darting around the room. He sat down next to her, taking the wine and nearly chugging it. Which was… very unlike him. Normally he would question the year, the make, the brand, and then he would smell it, sip it, and put it back down. Probably not touching it for the rest of the night.

Marianne put her drink down right away, realizing whatever Solas had planned was extremely important.

He was staring at her hands, wondering if he should take them, wondering if he was about to throw everything away. Maybe they should have sex and then he would tell her, no, creators no that’s a horrible idea. He shook his head and she placed a hand on his leg.

“Solas what’s going on?” Fuck her voice was everything to him, she was everything to him and he couldn’t lose her, but he couldn’t keep lying. He put his drink down next to hers, swallowed hard, and then took her hand.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” The words dripping off his tongue like molasses. Slowly, and painfully, he spoke again. “I’ve lied to you about quite a few things actually.”

She tightened her grip on his hand and he returned the motion. He took another breath. “My name isn’t Solas, well, not my first name. Solas is my middle name, kind of, but that’s not important to what I’m trying to tell you.”

He was rambling a bit, his eyes closed in a glare at his feet. He turned his torso more towards her and she took his other hand. “Okay, that’s not a big deal, what’s your first name?”

He looked up at her, wishing the wine glass had been a bit bigger, wishing her eyes weren’t so fucking in love with him, and wishing he wasn’t some stupid demi god.

“My name is Fen’harel.”

Her back was to him, his shirt lost somewhere in the apartment, his pants around his ankles, his glasses may have been stepped on and broken, but fuck he did not care.

Her back was to him, her bare, freckled, back. He could have stared at her back for eternity; it would take about that long to count all the freckles. She had scars on her waist, and he would ask about them later but for now he wanted to focus on other things.

She reached back and unstrapped her bra, his fists clenched and un-clenched. She shimmied off her yoga pants, dragging her thong down with them. His breath hitched at the sight of her bare ass. She turned to the side and he could just see the blush of her breast, the hint of her cunt which he needed to bury his face in right now.

She ran her hand across her thigh, bringing her other hand up to touch her left breast. She realized he hadn’t moved since they’d entered the room. She turned her head towards him; the earring she’d yet to take out yet shook as she laughed lightly.

“Fen’harel?” She called and his entire body snapped into attention. His cock pulsed at the sound of his name, a name that he wanted her to scream. A name he intended to make her scream. It was the first time she’d said it, it was the first time she’d spoken since he’d said it. It was entirely not what he’d expected; he’d anticipated her yelling, maybe throwing things. He did not think she would be throwing herself at him.

He took a step forward, his hand outstretched; slowly he ran a hand over her back, as if testing to see if she was real. She turned to face him, and he brought a hand up, running his fingertips over her pink nipple. She gasped as he pinched it, and that was all he needed, he quickly went to work. He fucked her well into the night, until her voice grew hoarse from screaming his name, and all the strength had left both their bodies.

In the morning they would talk about a lot. About him, about what it meant for them, what it will mean moving forward. About Dalla, Anders, and about when exactly Fen’harel would be moving in with her.


	4. Deep Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is the explanation for her fear of the deep roads

Darkness seemed to engulf the passage, the air thick with age, how dwarves breathed in here would never quite make sense to the little elf. The thin fabric of her mother’s skirt was tight in her hand, her wrist sore with the chains wrapped around from her arm to her mothers. Every one of her mother’s movements dragging her forward, no matter how close their hands were together, the binds were simply not long enough.

Her mother had begged her master to allow her young daughter to come, she couldn’t leave her home, her other child too young still to care for her little sister. The condition of her attendance had been the chain, never giving her the opportunity to move more than an inch from her mother’s side. 

The young one struggled as they moved into a more open area, she expected her lungs to fill with fresh air, but still they did not. The air here was heavy, like the veil was pushing down on her body. Of course she had no idea what the veil was, she though perhaps there were giant rock monsters sitting on her head that she couldn’t see, but didn’t voice her concerns. She knew what would happen to her mother if she was to make too much noise.

The room was surely larger, but still enclosed, no hints of light or an exit, just a large empty room. The Dwarf that had shown them the tunnel to go down had left them a few leagues back, refusing to go any further. The small one was sure her Master would kill him, but he did not.  
She kept her eyes glued to the Magister in front of her, that’s what Mamae called him, a Magister. It had such a lovely tone to it, she wished it was a title granted to a kinder man. He was an older one, making him keener to beating his elves. He wore his robes proud, even here in Ferelden, or at least under Ferelden. All she could see were those robes, and the tint of his white hair from under his strange hat. 

They were stopping now, and the child was unsure as to why, but her mother touched her head gently, reassuring her all was fine.

“Here, Valanri, make the mark here.” Her master shouted, a hand pointing to the ground.

Her mother quickly went to work, child at her side the entire time, writing runes into the dusted floor. The child watched in awe at her mother’s craftsmanship, the way her hand pulled the markings into place. She hoped one day her mother would show her how to do that as well.

When the circle was done the Magister pushed the two to the side, nearly throwing them into a wall.  
“Yes,” He hissed, standing in the center of the circle.

“Master, this isn’t-“ Valanri started, a hand holding her daughter to her, but the Magister cut her off, scowling down at her.  
“You will spoke when spoken to you filth!” He screamed before moving as if to hit her, but decided against it he turned his attention back to the markings.

He examined them for a bit, making sure he at least recognized the symbols. “These are all correct I assume?” He asked, not looking towards his elf slave.

“Yes Master,” she replied. “With enough power you should be able to rip open a portal through the veil.”

The child understood none of that of course, what she did understand was that the room had started to tingle against her skin, that the pattern on the ground was swirling against the Magisters feet. Everything after that was fuzzy, like looking through a dirty window. 

The ground beneath the man shook and swayed, then the earth started to crack, the entire room pulsed with rage at being disturbed. It took only a moment for the Magister to realize he had been betrayed but it was far too late, he was swallowed by the deep roads before he could even react. In that same moment Valanri had lifted her child into her arms and started running, her chains dangling loosely behind her. But the ground was too wild, knocking her off her feet and throwing her daughter less than a foot in front of her. 

With her free had she tried to shield her head as rocks tumbled from the ceiling, a single cry of her name from her daughter was all she heard before a large crack sounded, and then everything went quiet.

 

“M-mamae…”

Valanri’s eyes flickered open, there was a sharp pain in her leg, but other than that she was fine. Why was she fine?  
“Mamae I can’t hold it,” Her daughter whined again and Valanri’s eyes snapped up, and she shuddered at what she saw.

Her child, the smaller of her two children, born weak and frail, born coughing, starving, and without a father, stood with her bare feet digging into the floor, her hands raised above her head, blood trickling from her nose… and her eyes glowing red. 

Valanri twisted her head to look above, at the rocks that should have killed her. A wall of ice, thin and barely holding back her death loomed over her head. She looked back to her daughter.

“It’s okay babae, I can get out, I just need a moment.” She spoke softly, hoping not to startle the magic. As if it was a thing that could be startled. 

She shifted her weight, trying to unbind her leg from where it was being crushed by the single rock that had slipped past the ice. But to no avail. She couldn’t move. 

“Mamae I can’t-“ The ice shifted and more rocks fell, luckily missing her mother, but she grew weaker with every passing second.

_No,_ her mother thought, digging her finger nails into the ground to try again, desperately she pulled forward. _Creators no please, don’t let her see._

“Babae-“ “Mamae there’s a voice!”

Valanri’s entire body pulsed, the veil was so thin here, paper thin, and her daughter had just used blood magic. A demon.

“Mamae it says it can help! It wants to help!” She was screaming, as though she could ever understand the cost of such a deal. 

“Da’len no, it’s only me, focus on me,” Valanri begged, pleaded with her, reaching out, trying to touch her at least one more time. _I’ve worked too hard, month of planning, years… gods don’t let her die down here._

She twisted her torso, reached up, and hit the ice with all her frail body could muster.

“No! Mamae no!”

**She’s going to die, let me in child, let me help**

She hit it again, shards of ice falling around her.

“Mamae please!” Tears falling hot down the child’s cheeks, she tugged on the chain holding her mother hand, as if that would stop her. 

**I can save her; you can be together, the three of you**

Another hit and a rock fell next to her head.

She turned to look at her daughter, speaking slowly and softly she said, “Melana… you are a strong, amazing little girl. One day you will be an even more powerful woman, I wish I could have seen that day.”

**She can, just allow me to help you.**

Melana fell to her knees, screaming for her mother to stop, trying to find more magic inside her but coming up dry. Just as she was succumbing, just as she was about to give over to the demon, her mother shouted, the words were lost to Melana, but the demon left her mind, and the rocks fell.

 

Solas took a step back, a hand over his mouth, tears dripping off his chin. Melana lay on the ground weeping silently as her mother blood pooled around her feet. The child could not move, the chain still linking the two together. She sat there, crying and screaming for hours, until finally the dwarf that had originally led them there reappeared. 

With one quick swing of his axe he broke the chain, but it took hours from him to get the child to leave the pile of rubble.  
This dream seemed unwilling to end, so Solas followed the dwarf down the seemingly endless halls, until the child lost consciousness and the dream quickly shifted. He was careful to latch on to the dream, needing to know how it ended, needing to know that the child was safe after all that.

He stepped into a small room; the girl lay in a bed, a small elf sitting next to her who greatly resembled Valanri. The same thick brown hair, the same ashen skin, freckles covering her entire face; surely this was the other daughter she’d thought of.

Solas sat on the bed, the sorrow of this dream exhausting him. 

The girl looked down at her sleeping sister, pressing the palm of her hand into her face to wipe away the tears, sniffling back the snot that dared to drip. Her little sister, her tiny little sister had watched their mother get crushed by boulders in the fucking deep roads. She thought momentarily of the argument she’d had with her mother before they’d left. 

“I can watch her! I’m eight mother; I can care for her for a week!” She’d shouted, slamming her hands on the table.

“Taven!” Her mother yelled and she immediately recoiled in fear at her tone. “It may not be for a week!”

Her harsh gaze softened as she sighed, returning to washing the dishes from dinner. “You know how the master is, we may be down there for months, and I cannot leave her here knowing how little food we have. There is enough for you to get by, but I’ll not have you begging in the streets of Redcliffe while I’m gone.”

That had been the end of the argument, they’d not even spoken in the morning when she’d left. How she yearned now to see her mother one last time. 

She leaned down and kissed her sisters sleeping forehead. “Forgive me Ara Dharlin… Mother is right; I cannot take care of you. You’ll be safer with the shem…” she touched her head to her sisters, “I promise I **will** see you again.”  
She stood, turned away, and left the room.

Leaving Solas alone with the child. He’d not intended to stumble into her mind, or learn such personal details of her past; he’d simply been walking through the minds of the sleeping people in Skyhold. Truth be told, he had no idea who this child grew to be. There were many young elves in the staff. Even some in the mages, this child could be anyone. It seemed odd to stay and watch how the nightmare played out. But he was growing invested. Perhaps he would speak to the dreamer when she awoke, see if she did in fact reunite with her sister.

The door opened again and a human woman walked in. She was tall, slender, with hair as black as night and piercing black eyes to match. She moved almost gracefully, her shoulders never bobbing as she walked; even as she sat in the chair next to the bed it seemed her head never moved.

The child stirred and Solas edged away, though he knew it would not affect the memory, it may wake the girl.

She woke slowly, rolling back and forth before eventually sitting up and rubbing her eyes with a long yawn, sticking her tongue out as her mouth came to a close. Odd, Solas thought, I feel like I have seen that before.

“Hello, where am I?” The girl asked when she finally realized there was a woman in the room.

The woman seemed almost stunned by the question, as did Solas, that wasn’t exactly the first question someone asks when they’ve just seen their mother die.

“You’re in Redcliffe little one. Do you… remember what happened?”

The girl was silent, staring at the woman with big eyes, blinking around the room. Her eyes glossed over Solas, as he expected. He’d made sure that this one couldn’t see him, didn’t want her wondering why there was a strange man in her mind. 

“No, what happened?” Melana yawned again, stretching her arms out. Again her tongue was out when her mouth closed.

The woman shook her head, “Never mind what happened, someone from the circle should be here rather soon, but I’m here to protect you from that. Luckily I was in the area.”

“What is a circle?” Melana pushed the blankets off her legs and moved closer to the woman, her feet dangling off the bed.

“It’s a… never mind what it is. What is your name?” The woman grabbed her and pulled her onto her lap, running long fingers through her brown hair.

“I don’t have one of those I think.” The child replied.

Amnesia? Solas thought, rubbing his chin. What could have triggered that? Nothing ever hit her head, and no magic was cast on her as far as I’ve seen…

The woman was silent a moment, she had been told the child’s name, Melana, a lovely elf name. But in the troupe she would need a plain name, nothing too elvish. 

“Well I’ll have to give you one wont I? How about Marianne?”

Solas nearly shouted; his head turning slowly with wide eyes at the two girls. _What._

“That’s nice!” Marianne chirped, bouncing on the woman’s lap, “What’s your name?”

“Alexandra,” she replied, standing to leave. The dream was fading now, Solas left sitting dumbfounded on the bed, staring ahead at the two as they exited the room.

_WHAT_ He thought again, standing up. The dream was gone now; he was left in the fade detached from her mind.  
“What?!” He yelled it this time, thrusting his hands in front of him, pacing back and forth in an empty dream scape.

He shook himself out of the fade, jerking awake in reality. How could he have missed it, freckles, brown hair, and the happiest eyes he’d ever seen. That yawn.

And there she was, laid out across his chest, breathing steadily. _Marianne_. The inquisitor, his apostate lover with more power than anyone in Thedas. He should have recognized her sleeping mind right away, but he hadn’t been paying enough attention to who it was, only that the girl was safe.

Of course it was her, after such an intimate night with her who else would he aim toward in the fade? After telling her he loved her and couldn’t lose her. She’d once said she saw blood magic as nothing more than a means to an end, did she know she’d once used it? That it was the first time she’d done any sort of magic? He shifted, as if uncomfortable in her embrace, though he’d never been more satisfied with his sleeping partner.

She moaned slightly and he stiffened, his hand hovering over her shoulder. He sat it back down, knowing she would awake shortly, he enjoyed the last few moments of warmth in her arms before she eventually sat up. Yawned, her tongue stuck out as her lips came back together, and looked at him.

“Did you sleep well Vhennan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO  
> She has absolutely no memory of this what so ever
> 
> not of her mother, her sister, not even of the dream that she keeps having.  
> It's entirely subconscious.
> 
> This is sort of to lead up into the fic I do for them actually going to the deep roads.
> 
> I dont know why they were in Redcliffe, maybe that was just the easiest place to dump them idfk


	5. By the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI SPOILERS FROM TRESPASSERS BEWARE
> 
>  
> 
> Basically none of the options would suit my Inquisitor so I decided to write a short bit on my own!
> 
> Enjoy
> 
> seriously dont read this if you dont want spoilers theres some actually dialogue from game in here

The qunari turned to stone next to her but her pace did not change, she could see him, hear him, so close yet just out of reach. Her hand pulsed again and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the screams back when the pain returned. Her feet carried her forward unwillingly until she fell to the ground screaming, clutching her wrist.

“Solas-“ She managed through the waves of agonizing pain.

He stopped; his head bowing as he turned, as if afraid to look at her. His eyes began to glow a shimmering grey and the pain subsided. He was glorious, the last she’d seen him he was… so less regal. Now standing in front of her he seemed like a god, glowing in the daylight.

“That should give us some time.” He spoke so coolly with a small smile as he straightened his back.

She didn’t hesitate, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him and slanting her mouth greedily against his own. He laughed into her lips but returned the embrace, holding her there for as long as he dared. He knew they hadn’t much time.  
“Vhenan-“ he spoke, trying to break the kiss but she denied him, her lips desperate to make sure he was real, that she wasn’t dreaming or dead. He breathed and the taste of him nearly drove her wild, their tongues touched and it was like he had never been gone. He moaned into her, pressing her as close as he dared. Unable to feel her heat through his armor made him quite irate; his hand gripped her now loose hair that fell from its bun, another traveled down and gripped her ass so hard she thought she’d break.

It appeared he had missed her as well.

Finally, with their lips raw and her arms weak, she retreated from the kiss, leaning her forehead against his own.  
“Ar lath ma, ma Vhenan.” She whispered weakly. He chuckled, a low deep sound that sent shivers through her. Fuck how she’d missed him.

“I suspect you have questions,” He said, his lips daring to touch hers again.

“No, not yet, let this be real for just a moment longer. Just hold me; it’s always better when you hold me.” She kissed him again, and he obeyed, his hands dragging her ever closer, though their armor allowed little else than idle touching and hot kisses.

Finally he was pushing her away, her whine causing him to laugh again, “Please Vhenan, I know you must have questions of me.”  
She sighed but nodded, keeping her hand laced with his. She didn’t know how long she would have him but she planned to enjoy every second of it.

“The qunari were trying to kill you, I meant to get here first.” She said as Solas walked her near the edge to look over a crumbling city.

“Yes, they expected an agent of Fen’Harel, but I am no one’s agent but my own.”

“You’re Fen’Harel?”

“I was Solas first,” He started explaining, and he explained it all, the veil, the so called gods, the fall of Arlathan. He expected her hand to leave his, at any point he thought she would strike him, reject him, but she just asked questions and offered input now and again, her hand never loosening on his.

After a while he guided her back to the entrance to the Eluvian, hands still grasping one another. She was always not what he expected, never faltering in his love for her, or in her adoration of knowledge.

“What now?” She asked, and he pressed his forehead back to hers. He breathed deeply before speaking again, drinking in her scent. He gazed down at her face, and then past her face to her bare neck. Under the armor was the hint of leather straps, his old leather straps. She was wearing his necklace. He wondered if she always wore it.

“I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages past, I woke a year still before I joined you. Our people fell for what I did to strike the would be gods down, but still some hope remains for restoration. I will save the Elven people… even if it means this world must die.”

She didn’t even pause, barely letting him finish she begged, “Let me help you Solas”

Oh he knew she would say that, he knew there was nothing he could do to keep her from trying to help him.

“I cannot let you do that Vhenan.” He moved to pull away from her but her lips were fast on him again, as if kissing him would convince him to let her accompany him.

“No Marianne, you must stay, focus on the inquisition, your inquisition.” He took a few steps back, her hand still desperately latched to his.

She shook her head wildly, following after him. “No Solas, the inquisition is done, its ending. It no longer needs me.”

He laughed again, his sweet love, never would she fully understand her role in all of Thedas. How she must loathe the power. “No Marianne," but they were out of time, pain thrashed through her again, knocking her to the ground, her right hand still holding his.

He knelt down, “The mark will eventually kill you… drawing you here gave me a chance to save you… at least for now”

The world was blurring behind her eyes as she screamed and shouted her agony, her grip tightening on Solas. She wouldn’t let him leave again, not before telling him.

“Solas…” But the pain was too much; she shook again, her body rejecting the magic in her palm. He bent down closer, kissing her one last time. He drew it out as long as he could, but if he delayed anymore he would never leave. He pulled back, eyes closed as if looking at her again would kill him. He turned away.

He started to leave. “I will never forget you,” he whispered, stepping closer to the mirror. 

Finally Marianne could move again, the pain subsiding long enough for her to stand and perhaps stop him. “Wait!” She cried, stumbling forward a few inches before falling back to her knees.

He paused but a moment, looking back one last time. “I cannot my love.” He gazed down at her, before shifting his shoulders and walking further towards the Eluvian.

“Solas please,” She started crying now, memories of the day he left her flashing through her mind, this wasn’t then, he wouldn’t leave her once he knew. But he didn’t stop this time, his hand reaching out to tap the glass.

“Solas I had your children!” She screamed it, so loudly it echoed through the fade, his hand jolted back from the glowing screen. He blinked a few times, as if by some miracle he hadn’t heard her. His head turned, back and forth, thinking about how careful he had been each time she’d been in his bed. How every time they’d lain together, he’d used magic to keep children out of the mix. 

He lowered his hand to his side; he could hear Marianne breathing heavily. He knew what this meant, he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t leave his child, not in a world he intended to wage war against. He refused to let his own child see him as some sort of heretic rebel.

_No… Not child, children. She’d said children. More than one._ He thought as his fists flexed, _how could we have been so careless._

“Children?” He finally asked, his body still facing the mirror but his head inching towards her. “How… how many?”

Marianne let out an airy laugh, shaking her head. Of course that’s his first question. “Four.” 

“Four!?” He spun around now, hands palm up facing her, as if it was somehow her fault. “You gave birth to four children!? You never dreamt about it!”

“You’ve been in my dreams?” Marianne scoffed, Solas was walking back down towards her now, almost stomping.  
He ignored her question and continued, beginning to pace. “How could you have four children and not dream about their existence once!?”

Marianne sat up on her knees, her hand finally relaxing at her side. She watched him walk back and forth for a few minutes, he listed how impossible it was, how ridiculous it would be to take them and then how stupid it would be to leave them, until finally he sat down in front of her, defeated.

“Are you finished?” Marianne asked, placing her right hand on his leg. His eyes darted to her hand, then back to her eyes before his shoulders sagged and he nodded. “I believe so.”

They sat silent for a moment, Marianne’s hand crackling now and again.

“What are their names?” Solas asked, “The children’s?”

Marianne crawled forward, not trusting her legs again, to sit between Solas’ legs. She hadn’t noticed he wasn’t wearing the masterwork armor she’d last seen him in. That was expensive armor what the hell.

“How would you like to hear them, alphabetically? Or in order of birth?” She asked, leaning her head against his armor. She would ask about where her ridiculously expensive and rare armor was later.

Solas huffed a sort of laugh, “Order of birth I guess.” He shook his head again. “I don’t even know their genders.”

“Female, male, male, and female.” Marianne said, she’d told at least a thousand nobles. She had the speech memorized by now. She wondered momentarily how long it would take Bull, Dorian and Cole to find them sitting there in front of that giant mirror. In fact where had they gone?

Solas’ chest swelled with pride, such a large family in the space of two years! And he didn’t even learn of them until just now. “They must be amazing,” he breathed, kissing the top of her head.

“Da’renan, Fenlath, Isanan, and Athim.” Marianne said it in a single breath, her eyes closed. Leaving them in Skyhold had been hard, but bringing them to Orlais would be a catastrophe. Sera probably would have sent them flying through a window, or Vivienne would have given them manicures. She shuddered at the thought.

Solas was quiet, his face nuzzled in her hair, she smelled of blood and sweat, but past that was hints of lilac and cheese? It was different know that he knew she’d be by his side, he’d have to make certain arrangements so the children would be safe with the army. Purchase them beds, find food for them, perhaps test them for magic…

“Those are… interesting names.” He said slowly. He could hardly believe she’d named one Fenlath. That was far too ironic to be true.

“You can have opinions when you’re around for their birth.”

“Ah… point taken. 

“Good, help me up. We have an Elven uprising to construct, an inquisition to disband,” she continued speaking as he stood, “Children to go get, and an arm to chop off. It’s going to be a very busy day.” She extended a hand for him to grab and he chuckled, taking it and pulling her up into him, kissing her again.

“You never would have let me go alone, would you?” He asked as they stepped through the mirror. “Fuck no, I would have broken down and then reformed the inquisition entirely just to change your mind about it all.” 

“Ah and this is why I love you.”

“And I you Solas.”


End file.
